


Who Was I To Make You Wait?

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode: s04e10 Arctic Radar, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-06
Updated: 2008-03-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 03:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: He liked to possess things...keep them in pretty boxes, admiring them up close and from afar.





	Who Was I To Make You Wait?

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Written for tww_minis travel prompt on LJ. The boys have to get happy. The next story, I promise.  


* * *

Sam sat in Reagan National waiting for his flight. CNN played on the television closest to him. They were still discussing the Bartlet victory, flashing pictures on the screen of the President and various members of his Senior Staff throughout the recent campaign. The former Deputy chose instead to focus on The Weather Channel on a television further down. West Coast temperatures were the headlines there. It had been a while since Sam really went home. Longer since he actually considered it that.

He was unsure of where he belonged right now…the rented Newport Beach condo he would stay in brought Sam no closer to answering that question. He felt restless, no doubt still revved up from the hard battle and victory that once seemed unattainable. Sam got up from the hard chair; started to pace. He stared out the window at all of the planes. Some were flying close, Philadelphia, Newark, even Baltimore. More would take passengers to Paris, Sydney, and Cape Town, practically another world. 

In 45 minutes Sam would be on one of those planes. Flying off to California and not at all sure what he was facing there. If he was going to lose, and he would, what was the point of doing this? He should be back at the White House, holed up in a room with Toby and the writing staff, churning out another amazing Inaugural Address. He sighed, sitting again, and running his fingers through his thick brown hair.

Part of Sam felt as if he were running. Was he using this dead candidate in Orange County to get the hell of a dodge while not looking like a quitter? The past four years were a roller coaster…Sam felt like a character on a nighttime drama. All the ingredients were there; shootings, lies, death, illicit sex, heartbreak, insanity, and the neverending flow of booze and politics. It would be like the West Wing, if it played on HBO.

There were days when Sam worked late into the night, crashed on Toby’s couch, showered at the gym, and jumped right back into the fray. That was not normal behavior. It was not healthy either. They worked through colds, family crises, pain, fear, and loss. Nothing came before the White House, not even their sanity. That was why the cast of characters usually changed from term to term, if not more often. Burnout and high turnover were hazards of the job.

When his cell phone buzzed on his hip, Sam slipped it out of the case and flipped it open.

“Hello.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. We've talked about it.”

“Yeah, but when we talked about it, it was like a joke.”

“It was not a joke.”

“I'm sorry, but a Democrat winning in Orange County constitutes as a joke.”

“It’s nice to see you have so much faith in me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Sam.”

“Whatever. Wilde won.”

“That’s something we’re all trying to figure out.”

“I think it was a sign.” Sam replied. “I have to do this.”

“You're just going to leave.”

“J…”

“You are just going to walk away from all we made together?” Josh asked.

Sam was silent for a few moments. He knew that his best friend, the man he loved, was not just talking about the Bartlet White House. Like the Presidency, their relationship had seen much conflict. There was isolation, arguments, Josh’s PTSD, and a Category 4 hurricane called Amy that finally split the couple in two. Sam did not want to think he was running from that but surely he was leaving it behind.

“I made a promise J. What kind of man would I become if my promises meant nothing?”

“You made promises to me too.”

“3,000 miles is not going to break a single promise I ever made to you.”

“What about the promise to always be here?”

“Don’t do this, please. We've talked about this a million times already…I will be back.”

“You’ve said that before. You are not coming back. I know you and this California thing is about running Sam. I'm not talking about for office.”

“I'm not running.” He said through clenched teeth. He didn’t have the strength for another argument. Sam Seaborn was worn down to the nub. Even as he said that, he could not quite believe it. 

The President told him once it was going to be him and not to be afraid. He was petrified. Still, win or lose, if Sam wanted to get to the finish line he had to leave the gate. As much as he loved him, Josh was the gate. He liked to possess things…keep them in pretty boxes, admiring them up close and from afar. Sam was not a butterfly collection or a set of rare coins. He was a man and sometimes he had to make truly hard decisions.

“I’ll be back.” he repeated.

“Yeah…so you’ve said. Something in my stomach says you won't.”

“Well your stomach is wrong this time.”

“Sam, love…”

“They're calling my plane.” He lied. “I really have to go. I love you and will call as soon as I'm settled.”

“Settled completely or today when you get there?” Josh asked.

“Today. I really, really do love you.”

“I love you too. You hardly left anything here with me.”

What did he want? Sam’s toothbrush was still there. His aftershave, cologne, and shaving cream still sat on the bathroom counter. Clothes were in drawers and suits in the closet. That picture was on the nightstand, the one of Sam and Josh that first summer in DC. When they lived in the cramped apartment with three other guys and no air conditioning. He wanted to take it but knew how much it meant to Josh. He took his other favorite instead; Josh sound asleep on the campaign bus, curled up on Margaret’s shoulder. When Josh Lyman was sleepy no one was safe.

“It’s a busy time.” Sam said. “I'm sure you'll hardly leave the confines of your office. You won't have time to notice.”

“You think I am not going to notice that you're gone? Do you really believe that?”

“No. I need to go now. I’ll call you later.”

“Have a safe flight.” Josh’s tone was reserved. He was not going to be able to stop this from happening. Sam was leaving him and as much as Josh wanted to rush there to stop him, pull some Lloyd Dobler type moves; his feet were glued to the floor. How was he supposed to make it through this time without Sam? Without couch cuddling, breakfast for dinner, Sunday lovemaking and then arguing over Sam and Cokie? Hell, Sam and Cokie were gone and now his Sam was too. All of this was too much for the Deputy Chief of Staff to handle. Again, there was silence between them. When the hell had it become so quiet?

“Thank you Josh.”

“Please don’t leave me. I know that so much of this is my fault. I have been a monumental ass but that doesn’t mean you have to leave. We can work it out.”

“We’re fine, but I have to make this my time. It doesn’t…nothing will ever change how much I love you. Not time, distance, or even death. We have to get off of this merry-go-round.”

“I'm not saying goodbye to you.” Josh replied.

“Goodbye J.”

He flipped the cell phone closed and turned it off. Sam tried to take a deep breath. It was difficult for the air to get into his lungs. He covered his face with his hands, the tears wetting his fingers and palms.

‘United Flight 0046 to Los Angeles, now boarding at Gate 38.’

Sam got up, wiped his eyes and put the cell phone back on his hip. It was time for him to take the leap. Heading to the gate with his small carry-on bag, there was no way to know if or when he would be back. Eventually he would have to get around to breaking that to Josh.

***


End file.
